


Ember

by Erato_Muse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erato_Muse/pseuds/Erato_Muse
Summary: Harry relishes Ginny's warmth and fire, but tries to resist, on one of their walks back from Quidditch practice in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Ember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CurrerJean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurrerJean/gifts).



Ginny was like a flame. Not just for the color of her hair, the same shade as the brilliant orange fire that cradled a flame’s blue heart as it swayed on a candle. But, something about her in nature was like the ember of a larger fire, breaking off and taking the air to sail and land on some unsuspecting bit of forest floor, to settle in there and blaze for a bit. Harry looked over his shoulder during summers at the Weasleys, downtime studying in the Gryffindor common room, meals, and there she was, an ember that had not been there before, carried by the wind to that spot just behind him, talking with Hermione just low enough not to be overheard while Harry walked and talked to Ron ahead of them.  
Then, there was that day on the train where Ron and Hermione went to the front of the train with the other Prefects, leaving just Harry, Ginny, and enough of a space for a flame to breathe in the silence between them.  
“Fancy finding a compartment?” Harry asked.  
“Can’t. I said I’d meet Dean,” she said, leaving a place like an extinguished spot of the forest floor beside her.  
Harry watched her hair like the flame of a torch carried by an Olympic runner as she flew swiftly on her broom, scoring goal after goal, boosting the new team’s confidence with every triumph, and when practice was done, with everyone in a good mood and an exhilarated combination of bodily sore and emotionally elated, he couldn’t resist walking back to the castle with her, filling the space of extinguished fire with a new ember, something humble and tiny that he wouldn’t allow to grow into a proper flame.  
“How do you like our chances?” Harry asked.  
“I like them somewhere between my Auntie Muriel’s homemade elderberry wine, and the Weird Sister’s last album,” Ginny said.  
“Is that equivalent to 1 to 10, at all?” Harry asked.  
“It’s a scale of ‘tastes like essence of boomslang skin’ to ‘sheer brilliance’,” Ginny said.  
Harry laughed. He had only seen the Weird Sisters perform once, at the Yule Ball. He didn’t even know where to buy a Wizard rock cd. There was still so much about the Wizarding World that felt new, but Ginny and Ron talked about minutiae of their lives as wizards with such ease.  
“Why haven’t we reached sheer brilliance, exactly?” Harry asked. He was surprised to hear his team’s best player downing their chances, especially since their next match was against Hufflepuff, an industrious but inconsistent team.  
“My brother, mostly,” Ginny said insouciantly.  
“Come on…I’m not going there…” Harry said, holding back a laugh.  
“He can’t get out of his own bloody head!” Ginny snapped, as they rounded the lake, and the sun struck the water’s surface just so, lighting it silver behind Ginny’s hair the color of fresh copper, and her eyes which were the color of honey and cradled the light as if entrapping it in amber. Harry’s stomach felt hollow, and his chest felt full, and then he felt guilty and dirty.  
“He just wants to be as great as all your brothers,” Harry said.  
Ginny rolled her eyes, saying without words that she didn’t find this a valid excuse, and that she had no compunctions to be as polite or kind as he was being. Harry held back a laugh, but still it danced in his stomach.  
“If he could figure out this thing with Hermione, maybe he could keep his mind on the game,” She said.  
“Oh, you noticed?” Harry said drily. Ginny gave a wry laugh.  
“They’re about to burst, those two,” Ginny said.  
That did it-Harry laughed. It felt good, so good. Better than misery and suspense, better than a vague but pervasive ache that rose in idle moments, the gray, nameless inmate that didn’t want to escape or to be granted clemency, content to live in Harry’s mind, chest, and stomach.  
“Its hard…to like someone who doesn’t feel it back,” Harry said.  
“Oh? I wouldn’t know too much about that, myself,” Ginny said, with a smirk that took the edge off. He didn’t know what to say, but her amber eyes gave him clemency. She stretched, and her neck emitted an audible crack. She sighed, and the breathy sound hit Harry like a forbidden note.  
“Broom-back,” they both said at the same time. Ginny laughed.  
“You’ll get used to it,” Harry said.  
“I’m already used to it,” She said, her voice a dare. He had forgotten that she was on the team the year before, and secretly flew on her brother’s brooms all the time.  
They reached the castle, and Ginny waved goodbye as she headed one way, and Harry another, to their separate Years, separate classes, separate lives. Perhaps she would meet Dean, somewhere, and walk the rest of the way in the sunshine with him. Harry didn’t know why this should bother him…or, he did, but he didn’t want to consign this issue to either the gray inmate or the monster in his chest. He had to control something about his life, and that would have to take the form of not being That Bloke: the one who stole his roommate’s girlfriend and dated his best mate’s sister, all housed in the same girl, as it happened.  
He did, however, look forward to their next chat after practice.


End file.
